Page 40 of Hannah.
Astrid, ever the optimist, is undeterred. “Oh, nonsense. He’s just having a grumpy day. You’re coming with us, and I refuse to take no for an answer.”
She takes my arm in a friendly gesture, determined to include us, placing me in the middle of a Conrad-Hannah-Astrid chain. It’s funny enough that I giggle, but Johan looks even more annoyed.
“A grumpy day, huh?” I ask Johan, unable to stop myself from teasing him a little. Astrid and Conrad’s happiness is contagious, I guess.
Johan is silent, giving me only a frown. It makes me giggle harder.
“We’re having dinner at Parker’s Tavern. It’s just a short walk from here. You’ll love it,” Astrid adds. “Follow us, it isn’t far.”
Astrid is right; we reach the restaurant in a little under twenty minutes. She’s lively and talkative, as is Conrad, but Johan remains quiet. I feel a little bad about doing so much to annoy him, finding myself caught between the satisfaction of turning the tables on him and the lingering ache of a connection I can’t quite sever.
The restaurant, nestled within the University Arms Hotel, is traditional and elegant. The exterior exudes a timeless charm, and as we enter, I find myself enchanted by the warm glow of the brasserie and bar. The wood-paneled interior, adorned with college crests, creates an atmosphere that’s part historiccoaching inn, part fine dining. It’s a seamless blend of the old and new.
The arched windows offer a lovely view of Parker’s Piece, the expansive green space bathed in the soft glow of evening light. Astrid confidently leads the way, and her familiarity with the place is evident. Johan, though still reserved, seems at ease in the surroundings. With his easygoing nature, Conrad would probably be fine having dinner anywhere as long as he gets to socialize.
We’re guided to our table with its crispy white tablecloths and comfortable wooden chairs. Inside, the buttery light lingers on the rich wood paneling, and the atmosphere is filled with the murmur of hushed conversations and the clinking of fine china.
As we settle into our seats, the arrangement inadvertently places me directly across from Johan. The face-to-face setting feels both intimate and charged. It makes sense. I’m here with Conrad, so as far as Astrid is concerned, I should be sitting next to him. It’s a doubledate,after all. Maybe if I felt some pull towards Conrad, the way his thigh brushes against mine might be thrilling, but at the moment, I barely notice it.
“Everywhere I turn at Cambridge, something else makes me feel like I’ve gone back in time,” I muse, resting my chin on my fist and elbow on the table.
“It really is a world outside of time,” Astrid agrees, glancing around. “Maybe that’s why it attracts so many history enthusiasts.”
“I’ve wanted to go here since I was a kid,” I tell her, my attention focused on her. “My dad wasn’t thrilled that I didn’t follow my brother and sister to college in Amsterdam, but Cambridge is prestigious enough that he didn’t feel like his pride was too wounded.”
Our attentive server appears, presenting the menus and wine and beer lists. He rattles off the chef specials, and Conrad takesthe initiative to order us all a round of what he says is his favorite stout.
While we wait for the beer, Conrad’s face gets closer to mine. He reads my menu with me instead of picking up his own. His breath is warm on my face, and the proximity makes me uncomfortable.
“What do you suggest?” I ask, eager to get the orders in so he can stop invading my space.
Conrad leans in more, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “How about we share the wood-fired ribeye and lemon sole? The best of both worlds, don’t you think?”
Astrid, across the table, nods in agreement. “Good choice, you two. And perhaps a bottle of the Château Macquin Bordeaux to accompany our feast?”
The waiter returns with the stout, thick, and rich with a caramel-colored head of foam on it. It’s sweeter than I expected, and I hum in appreciation after my first sip. We give our orders and sit back to await the food. I’m reminded all over again how easy it is to look into Johan’s eyes from across the table. It makes my cheeks flush, realizing I could touch his foot with mine if only I extended my leg. Oh, this is close. Too close.
Astrid's playfulness infuses the dinner with a light-hearted energy. Her fingers dance across the tablecloth in a mischievous rhythm as she hints at something that makes any warm flush I might have felt disappear in a rush.
“Soo…Conrad has let me in on your little secret.” Her eyes dart between Johan and I. A million possibilities flit through my mind’s eyes, especially Johan pinning me at Astrid’s estate, the two of us just a single breath away from a kiss. I feel panic crawling up my spine.
An air of caution envelops Johan and me, both of us uncertain of what she is referencing. He licks his lips and speaks first. “What are you talking about?”
Still smiling, Astrid swats him on the arm. “Oh, don’t play dumb now. Why keep it hush-hush that she’s Elise’s sister?” Astrid questions Johan, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “It’s okay, you know. I wouldn’t have taken it badly.”
Relief hits me like a freight train, the breath I have been holding coming out in a rush. Johan, the picture of nonchalance, responds with a casual shrug. “Wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”
I jump in, attempting to keep it breezy. “We didn’t know each other that well, anyway. I was just Elise’s annoying little sister whenever he was around.”
Johan’s expression tells me that I was anything but annoying. To my surprise, his eyes hold a fondness and nostalgia for those past days. I wish I could tell him that I feel exactly the same.
As the conversation shifts, I catch sight of a few of my classmates entering the restaurant, their laughter weaving through the ambient sounds of the tavern. Instinctively, I try to keep a low profile, hiding behind the menu, knowing how it might look to be out having dinner with my professor, even if others are eating with us. I don’t want anyone to question me about Conrad, either. Spotting the group and realizing they are his students, Johan tries the same maneuver, covering his face with the manila parchment menu.
Astrid and Conrad exchange amused glances. “Seriously, you two,” Conrad laughs, leaning in. “You aren’t breaking any laws, you know?”
Astrid leans in, too, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Relax. Your secret’s safe with us. No one will ever know that Professor Johan Bentinck dared to eat at the same table as one of his young, impressionable students.”
“Impressionable student?” I scoff, keeping my menu just as high. “Not at all. I’m just worried my colleagues will think I have no life if I’m hanging out with such a boring teacher.”